


Listening For The Weather

by Kemmasandi



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: Cyclonus sees the future coming.





	Listening For The Weather

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted a few years ago on my tumblr account; as with the last few ficlets I posted, I don't trust tumblr anymore, so I'm posting it here. I think it may have been written in response to an askbox prompt someone sent me, but I don't remember who.

_ “—the Matrix Flame has reignited, indicating that the Prime-Candidate has successfully integrated the Matrix. In a break with tradition, the Senate has set the date of Presentation for twelve chords from now, an unprecedented length of time. Opposition groups within the Lower Council have filed protests—” _

The camerlengo came slinking back along the corridor, slamming the door to his office and cutting off the podcaster’s mellifluous voice in mid-sentence. 

"Wonder what’s got his exhaust pipes in a knot?” Cyclonus’ companion contrived to comment somehow without moving his lips. “He looks like he’s gone a round with Proteus without a backup dictionary.”

Cyclonus wondered whether an acknowledgement would shut the mech up. Silence had only seemed to encourage him. He seemed pathologically incapable of noticing the waves of not-interested coming off his fellow Praetorian Guard’s field. 

In any case, he had a suspicion that the subject of the camerlengo’s ire had something to do with the mech on the other side of the heavily-ornamented door at their backs.

What was the kid’s former name again? Tailgate. Six weeks old, and as of yesterday, elevated to the highest rank of Cybertronian society imaginable. The Matrix had not chosen a Senator or a General, but a tiny waste disposal unit. The irony was so thick that Cyclonus could almost taste it. 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot as unobtrusively as possible.

The faint echoes of politicians’ voices filtered through the maze of fine corridors and chambers that connected the Primal Palace with the Senate. Cybertron’s highest governing body had been consumed by a more or less unending debate since the Matrix had chosen Tailgate. If such a low-caste mech could be uplifted so high, then where was the justification for the strict function and caste-based strata which governed Cybertronian society? No wonder the date of Presentation had been so delayed. When Tailgate’s identity was made public, the entire planet would rock.

Cyclonus had grave doubts that the Senate would allow this to happen. Tailgate, six weeks old, was in grave danger.

He wrapped both hands around the hilt of his ceremonial longsword and balanced the tip on the richly tiled floor, resting his wrists on the crossguards where the hilt met the blade. He had served the Primes and the Senate loyally for thousands of years. It was beginning to dawn upon him that soon he might have to make a choice between which of those masters to continue serving, and which to betray.

 


End file.
